


And I Will Try To Fix You

by jane_potter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Related, Fix-It, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Letters, Pre-Slash, Profound Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-22
Updated: 2011-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-19 17:26:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_potter/pseuds/jane_potter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dear Dean: Raphael and Crowley joined forces less than 5 minutes ago, after I told Crowley that I wasn’t going to give him any of the souls from Purgatory. I’m just about to perform the ritual myself, but I need to do this first. I need you to know everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I Will Try To Fix You

**Author's Note:**

> Fix-it fic for the 6x22 fuck-up. Seriously, SPN writers? It's this easy.

_Dear Dean,_

 _Raphael and Crowley joined forces less than 5 minutes ago, after I told Crowley that I wasn’t going to give him any of the souls from Purgatory. I took the blood they needed for the ritual to open the gate, and I have it here with me now. I’m just about to perform the ritual myself, but I need to do this first. You've made it impossible to tell you these things in person, but I need you to know everything, so that whatever happens next, you can do what you think is best._

 _I’ve left letters like this one for Sam and Bobby as well, because I know that there’s a possibility that you’re so mad at me you won’t even read this. If you have read this far, then accept my apologies for the unkind judgement. I want to have faith that you will hear me out, but I seem to be having a shortage of that, lately._

 _The truth is that I don’t even have very much faith left in God, let alone in myself. I trust myself less than I ever trusted you. I don’t know what consuming a million souls will do to me, but I don’t think it will be anything good. In fact, all the descriptions I can think of for possible outcomes feature the words “absolute power” very prominently. On the off chance that I managed to stay… sane, somehow, you’ll never read this letter. But that’s a small chance._

 _I’ve never asked you for anything before, Dean. I know you’ve almost died for me, and I appreciate the sentiment, but I_ have _died for you. Several times. I don’t know what else I could have done that would have made you trust me when I needed it. I won’t lie and say that that doesn’t hurt. It hurts more than dying. It hurts “like a bitch.” Or maybe several bitches, I don’t know._

 _You were my family, too. I understood you at least enough to know that when you called me a brother, you meant that you loved me, in one way or another, because Sam’s been synonymous with love for your whole life and you don’t like chick flick moments. I wouldn’t say this in person because you don’t like to talk about it, but I love you, too, Dean, however and however much and for as long as you want it. Wanted it._

 _Maybe I could have been more upfront with you about the war in Heaven, about Raphael, about my soldiers— about being a general—about losing constantly. It was a lot like when you were trying to stop Lucifer from rising. Maybe I should have come to you for help at Lisa’s house, but I was trying to protect you. I wanted you to be happy. I still don’t think that was wrong—but maybe I’m wrong about that. Right now, the past just seems like an endless series of things I could have done better, and the future like a line-up of things I need to fix._

 _In Bobby and Sam’s letters, I wrote, “You don’t understand how ashamed I am of the things I’ve done.” But I think you do know, Dean. I was ashamed—am ashamed—to tell you what I’d stooped to. Nobody liked the arrangement with Crowley less than I, understand that. But it’s not just that. I’ve killed subordinates for acting against me when they found out about the arrangement. I killed my Lieutenant, Rachel. I killed Balthazar for betraying me to you. He was one of my oldest friends. Please believe me when I say that I always meant to resurrect him after consuming the souls. I can only hope that, whatever those souls turn me into, it will still make sense to me to bring him back._

 _I’m ashamed of the things I did, but I did them because I believed—I thought—they were necessary. I’ve sacrificed and destroyed so much. I can’t just give up now. I have to make this all mean something. I hope you understand that._

 _I’m confident that I’ll win the war and destroy Raphael. I just don’t know what I’ll do afterwards. What I’ll be. How I’ll think. How I’ll decide what to do next. I’m… very afraid of that. Dean, I’m scared. I don’t want to destroy any more than I have already. But I know that if anyone is capable of bringing me back from the “dark side,” it’s you._

 _I don’t just need you to trust me. I need you to believe I’m worth saving._

 _So now that you know everything I have to say, now that I have “all my cards on the table,” I’m asking you one last time, Dean—help me._

 _Please_.

 

 

The paper rattled in Dean’s hand, shaking just enough for him to recognise a tremor in his wrist. Tensing up, he twisted his neck from side to side, trying to work out some of the jittery tension that had sunk into his muscles upon finding the letter taped to the Impala’s steering wheel. It didn’t help.

Feeling simultaneously wire-tight and shaky enough to fall apart, Dean shut his eyes tightly for a moment, trying to regain control of himself.

All he saw behind his eyelids was the terrifying, blank-eyed counterfeit of Godstiel in Cas’ body.

That, and an image of Cas sitting alone somewhere in the dark three days ago, writing _Dean, I’m scared_ to a guy who, as far as he knew, wanted him dead.

With a shuddering sigh, Dean licked his lips and bowed his head, touching his forehead to the letter in his hand, and all the uncertainty and tension ran out of his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Cas,” he rasped against the paper, eyes closed in prayer like that would get it to where it needed to go, “I’m comin’ for you.”


End file.
